Once
by xXSuzuXx
Summary: One sided Faheem / Umar. If you don't know these character then go away. Birth of Altair.


Alone, Umar sat in the windowsill overlooking the mountain pass, horizon highlighted by the scarlet-plum of sunrise. His eyes were somewhere distant, puffy and red but currently dry. The night had been hard for him, no doubt. In a single night his deepest fears had become a reality, his wife's life lost and his newborn child's life nearly taken with hers. The infant's health had since stabilized, but there was no guarantee to what the future held.

Umar had cried, he knew. When he thought no one was looking, no doubt, but he had cried all the same. Faheem did not think any less of the Assassin for it, only wished he could have been more supportive of his friend, but in his time of need he had only been able to watch from afar. At least until now. "Umar," He began, a mild frown tugging at his lips. "How long have you been here?" There was no response. All night, he would have guessed. "Won't you see your child?"

The assassin smiled, a dull smile in truth, meek in comparison to the usual mischievous, or at least smug nature he usually displayed. "I have seen my child." Umar replied, voice coarse and broken. "He is beautiful."

"Then why are you not with him?" Faheem inquired, sitting beside him.

The man frowned. "I am in no mood for children right now."

"This is your child you speak of." Faheem pointed out. "Now is not the time for brooding."

Umar glared indignantly at him. "My wife is dead. I have every right to brood."

There was a twinge of jealousy buried deep somewhere- that Umar felt so strongly for another. It made him angry, angry at himself, mostly. The thought was shoved away. Faheem sighed. "Your child needs you right now." He reached out, brushing his thumbs beneath the man's eyes. "It will not do for your child's first memories of you to be that of you as you are now."

"Don't be ridiculous; he is but an infant. He will not remember if I am there or not or what I look like."

"A child's memory is a strange thing, Umar. They remember things best forgotten and forget things best remembered. You should be with him, my brother. You are all he has in the world. It is a hard thing, to be without a mother. You should not deny him a father as well."

Umar grit his teeth. He'd hit a nerve. "It is not my intention, but…" Troubled, he fell silent. He was upset again.

"If you must cry, do so now. I will lend you my shoulder. Only be with your son afterwards." Umar looked to him, doubtful but pained and barely restraining himself.

"I do not cry, Faheem. I have never cried." Yet his shoulders shook, and wetness had pooled at the corners of his eyes.

"I will not speak of this to anyone."

"No one?"

"Not a soul." Faheem promised.

There was a moment of silence between them in which he watched the master intently, made a mental note of the moment in which he cracked and eventually broke. Before the tears could escape the prison of his eyes, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Faheem's shoulder. There was not a sound from him, nothing to suggest he might be crying besides the subtle, unsteady breaths he released.

Faheem let him cry, rubbing his back in circles. "You better not pity me." Umar warned.

"It is not in my nature to pity." He replied, and they fell into a long silence. When Umar pulled back, Faheem turned his head away so that he could have the moment of privacy required to wipe the tears away. He seemed appreciative enough for it.

Calmed, Umar stood, and Faheem stood after him. "I will not leave him alone any longer." Umar said decidedly, and Faheem nodded.

"Have you decided on a name for the boy?" There was no particular reason behind the question, no real curiosity, only a secret desire to keep Umar near for only a bit longer.

If the man noticed, he spoke nothing of it, and replied, "Altair. She wanted for him to be Altair."

"A fair, strong name for a fair, strong boy."

"Who will have memories of a fair, strong father." Umar smiled then, in the way which he adored. There was no room for Faheem in his world then; Umar turned away to join his newborn son, tugging his hood back and leaving him behind.

The sight of Umar's back, tall and proud, fading into the candlelit room of the infirmary would be the last he would see of the man for another three months.


End file.
